I smirk as I dash off a reply.
The Playgirl shoot is actually tomorrow.
The mobile dings yet again.
i’m pretty busy. can i send u some nude selfies to give them instead?
This time I laugh out loud.
Just be here at 8, you cheeky boy.
As promised, Rory is right on time. Actually, he’s fifteen minutes early and winks at me when he walks in. The morning goes by quickly, with his on-camera interviews with Good Morning Britain and Wake Up London going off perfectly. I’m glad Mr. McKibben insisted the two shows tape their segments in our media room, because it seems a more relaxing environment than busy television studios would have been.
Rory is awesome with the hosts, and afterward, Mr. McKibben thanks me. “Almost halfway there,” he says. “Keep up the good work.”
Rory disappears for a while, saying he’s got some obligation to take care of, but he’s back in time for us to easily make it to Wembley Stadium for the Vanity Fair shoot. Of course, he again insists on taking his car, but this time he takes the time to show me how the passenger door works.
I’ve never been on a football pitch before, and the stadium looks terrifyingly massive from that perspective. For nearly four hours, a crew of nine people set up lighting in various locations. Every half hour or so, Rory goes off with three wardrobe people for another change of clothing.
Whenever they change the setup, he walks over to me and we laugh about the silliness of it all. He tells me how absurd this madness seems to a working-class kid who’d never even heard of Vanity Fair until a few years ago.
Most of the setups are here on the pitch, but for one they take him down into the locker room where he’s been changing clothes. I use that as an excuse to make a few phone calls, then wait until they return for another setup in front of the goal.
I must say, the man looks delicious no matter what they drape him in. My absolute favorite, though, is the last one: a black tuxedo. They pose him with the bow tie untied and draped around his neck and three buttons of the white shirt unbuttoned at the top. A white silk handkerchief in his breast pocket completes the look, and Rory sells it with a scorchingly sexy look into the camera.
When they finish up, he strolls over to me still wearing the tux, and I nearly melt.
“They say they’re done with me. You up for dinner again after I change? I’m famished.”
“Sure,” I say. Holy fuck he looks good.
He starts to walk off, then quickly returns. “Come with me, I’ll show you the home locker room.”
I only hesitate a moment. I’ll never get an opportunity like this again.
We walk off the pitch, through the tunnel from which the players emerge before a match. There’s a man standing next to the door marked “HOME.”
“Last one, right?” he says to Rory.
“Yeah, finally.”
“Just leave the tux in there with the others. I’ll pack it all up when you’re done.”
He smiles at me and I feel a mite sheepish until Rory reaches for my hand and pulls me through the door with him. The locker room is much bigger—and cleaner—than I expected, with a large empty middle and nice, neat lockers around the walls. In three of them hang Tottenham kits, white at the top with a gradient to navy blue at the bottom. The middle one is the number 10 with “WINSTON” above it. There are football cleats underneath and various odds and ends scattered about: towels, socks, etc.
“Why only three kits?” I ask.
“It was for the shoot. They wanted it to look authentic, but the Premier League season doesn’t start until August, so they just brought in three kits and some shoes and whatnot. They kept the empty lockers out of frame.”
I walk to his kit and stroke the polyester mesh material. It’s actually sexier than I would ever have imagined.
“I need to change out of this monkey suit,” Rory says.
“I’ll wait outside then.”
“No need, I’ll duck into the shower room for a sec.”
He grabs his clothes from a garment rack containing all the other outfits he’s been wearing today, then slips safely out of sight through a door.
I walk back to his fake locker to look at that kit again. It’s quite lovely, and I want one to wear around my flat. I hold it up to myself and look down but can’t quite get an idea of what I’d look like. Gazing around the locker room, I spot full-length mirrors on the wall every half-dozen lockers and carry the kit to the closest one for a better view.
I love how adorable I look as I hold it in front of me. This and panties would be all I’d need for lazing around on a Sunday morning.
A movement catches my attention and I look in the upper corner of the mirror and see Rory standing there shirtless. It takes me a couple of seconds to realize I’m actually looking at a reflection of him in the shower room towel-off area, bounced off of a mirror in there to one in the locker room, then finally to the mirror in front of me.
By then he’s unzipping his trousers.
I gasp, but don’t dare turn away. His lean, muscular torso is breathtakingly sexy. There’s just a trace of brown hair on his chest, and more on his belly leading downward towards… my god, there go the trousers. He’s wearing nothing but blue and white striped boxer briefs, and I’m stunned by how muscular his thighs are. And the bulge in those boxer briefs is rather easy to see, even from here.
I suddenly realize that if I can see his reflection, then he can also see mine if he looks at that mirror. I start to turn away, then don’t because I’m glued to the image, waiting to see if he’s going to remove those boxer briefs. I can’t not see that if there’s a chance of it happening.
Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, he reaches for his jeans and slips them on. Since the show’s apparently over, I scurry away unnoticed, breathing more heavily that I was a minute ago. Rory returns fully dressed to find me sitting patiently (and chastely) in front of his locker.
“What are you smiling about?” he casually asks.
Bloody hell, am I smiling? “I like it in here,” I half-lie. “Much sexier than I would have imagined.”
Then he’s standing in front of me, offering his hand to help me up. “Shall we?”
Yes. We absolute shall. I’m in if you are.
Rory looks into my eyes as if he can read my thoughts. I don’t give him time to think it over though, as I reach behind his neck, tiptoeing as I pull him towards me. I kiss him the way I’ve been wanting to kiss him since the moment he walked into my office yesterday morning. His strong arms wrap around me and bring my body to his, my big breasts pressing against him. Our tongues move with purpose, exploring this first contact, trying to determine how much desire each of us has for the other.
Rory’s desire is made evident when his hand finds my breast. I kiss him harder as he softly squeezes the mound of flesh through my shirt. Then he pushes me against the locker, and everything intensifies; the kiss, his still-cautious groping, my labored breathing. He leaves my mouth long enough to stare into my eyes with those amazing green orbs of his, his finger discovering my rapidly hardening nipple.
When I feel his other hand on my stomach, sliding into the top of my trousers, I finally come to my senses and pull away from him.
“Rory, we can’t do this.”
“I disagree.” The level of desire in his voice stuns me. “I say we must.”
“No.”
Realizing I may be cutting off the possibility of ever going any further with him, I quickly amend my negative statement.
“Not here, not in a locker room. If you want to bed me, you’ll have to do it properly.”
Rory
“Are we doing the right thing?”
Abby looks apprehensive in my passenger seat. Lovely, but yeah, apprehensive as well.
“Skipping dinner, you mean?”
She glares at me, then sees my grin. “Rory, I’m serious. There are a lot of reasons why this is a bad idea. I’m supposed to be keeping you out of trouble, remember?”
“And you are doing just that.”
“Abby, if you honestly don’t want this, just say the word and I’ll turn around and we can go have a nice meal instead.”
She doesn’t say anything and I hit the accelerator pedal a little harder, whizzing past cars whose drivers don’t understand the desire that’s suddenly enveloped me.
“Why are you going so fast?” Abby asks.
“Because I want to get you into my bed,” I say. “I want to see you naked. I want to feel your body and know what it’s like to be inside of you.”
“All because of one kiss?” Her smile is so fucking sexy.
“No, I’ve been thinking these thoughts for a while now.”
“We just met two days ago, Rory.”
Okay, she’s got me there. I start to say that’s never stopped me before, but my common sense shuts me up before I get the words out. I don’t want to fuck this up in any way.
“Well it seems like I’ve been waiting forever.”
The moment we’re out of the car in my garage, I kiss her again, to remind both of us how intense that first kiss was and reestablish the reason we rushed here in the first place. This time, the kiss is even more intense and more romantic. Surrounded by gray concrete in all directions, there’s nothing in the garage except that our lips, pressed together, and our tongues, sensuously exploring. When we finally come up for air, I’ve got a hard-on and I’m pretty sure she knows. Her breathing is already heavy when I put my lips near her ear and say, “You kiss like it’s sex.”
“That’s where sex starts for me.” There’s a fire in her eyes now. “Now take me to your bed.”
As we hurry upstairs, Abby is obviously stunned by the house, but I promise I’ll give her the full tour later. We’re in my bedroom within seconds, tearing off each other’s clothes. When we’re down to our underwear, I stop and take a few steps back.
“Wait,” I say emphatically.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. Her breasts are much larger than I thought, pressing against her lovely bra. She’s thick from top to bottom; wide sexy hips, nice thick thighs. Fuck, she’s got a great body.
“Nothing’s wrong, we just need to slow down. We’ll only have this moment one time, and we’re about to dash madly right through it. This part needs to be savored.”
Funny, I don’t remember ever before being overly cautious about this. I’m usually trying to get a woman out of her clothes as fast as human possible.
“I love that,” Abby says, closing the gap between us while staring straight at the very hard lump in my boxer briefs.
She meets me next to the bed and slides her hands behind me, caressing my back. I do the same to her, but it doesn’t take long before she’s got her hands down my pants, one on each arse cheek, and there’s a giddy smile across her face. I start to undo her bra, but she removes her hands and slowly drops to her knees. She works her way up my thighs, then back around till she’s caressing my arse again, only now with her eyes achingly right in from of my cock.
She kisses me, on the opposite side of where my hard-on is trapped and sticking straight to the side. Repeatedly she plants little kisses while moving around everywhere except on my knob. When she reaches my balls and leaves a few kisses there, I can feel myself throb hard. Then her lips finally touch the base and begin a slow trip up my shaft.
A moan escapes my lips involuntarily. I manage to get her bra undone and it falls forward but has nowhere to go while her hands are behind me, so it hangs there, suspended between us. Her breasts are lovelier than I could have imagined: large yet firm, with beautiful big nipples that are as hard as I am. I have one tit in each hand just as her lips reach the head of my cock and find a wet spot there. She places one or two kisses there, then parts her lips and covers it with her mouth, tonguing the tip through the material. Just when I’m about to go absolutely fucking mad, she stands with a big sexy smile on her face, letting the bra slide down her arms to the floor.
“Slow enough for you, Sir?” Her voice is husky with need.
I grin. “Get your gorgeous ass on that bed, woman.”
Abby climbs up with an expectant expression. I coax her into lifting her hips, and I lower her pants bit by bit until I’ve exposed a lovely little bare slit. Once I’ve got her starkers, I move down between her legs, part them and bury my face in there. She’s already wet and tastes like heaven, and she moans with pleasure when she feels my tongue parting her. I locate her swollen clit and circle the nub, teasing her by occasionally closing my lips around it and gently taking it into my mouth.
“Just like that. Don’t stop.”
I love that she’s comfortable talking to me. Holy fuck it’s the sexiest thing ever when a woman talks dirty in bed, but it’s far too rare.
“Oh, fuck yes, that’s perfect. Fuuuck.”
Before long she’s moaning loudly and telling me how good it feels, and I know she’s getting close. I ease a finger into her wet opening and find her G-spot, massaging it as I continue licking and sucking her clit. It only takes another minute before her hands are buried in my hair and she’s grinding against my face, her moans now taking on an urgency that makes me try that much harder. Then she fucking explodes, groaning as her juices flush against my lips and tongue. Abby’s body writhes as she milks every last bit of pleasure out of her orgasm.
“That was incredible,” she croaks.
“And you are delicious,” I reply. “I’ll give you a few seconds to recover, but if I don’t feel your lips around my knob soon, I might die of sorrow.”
“Mmm, we can’t have that happen, can we? I don’t need time to recover.”
In seconds she’s got my pants off and my cock quickly disappears between her lips. I soon realize that Abby is insanely talented at this particular task. I’m enjoying being in her mouth so much that I plan to resist coming for as long as possible. Then she lifts her mouth off of me and looks up into my eyes, my cock resting against her plump lips.
“I need you to tell me how it feels,” she says, circling her tongue around the head afterwards. Then my cock disappears between her lips again.
I make the grave errors of continuing to look down to watch her.
“My god. You’re fucking amazing. Suck that cock. Take it all.”
Her mouth moves farther down my shaft and I feel the tip sliding into her throat.
“Holy fuck.”
That formerly sweet face looks disarmingly filthy with my cock buried up to the hilt in it, and the way her brow furrows to reflect her effort is almost too much to bear. When I think about this being the same innocent woman I’ve been hanging out with recently, I feel myself rapidly losing control.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come.”
My intention was to warn her so she could slow down, but she merely increases the intensity.
“Oh my god.”
My cum flies out into her eager mouth, over and over, and she hungrily swallows every drop. I continue to pulse deep inside until I’m spent and my body shivering with pleasure.
“What the fuck just happened?” I’m quite sure the entire thing lasted less than two minutes.
Abby pulls away from me and my cock slides out of her mouth.
“I wanted you to always remember your first blowjob from me.” She squeezes the bottom of my shaft and slides her hand towards the head, smiling as a little more warm cum oozes from the tip.
“Mmmm,” she says, licking it off. “All done. Now let’s make sure you stay hard.” Next thing I know she’s got one of my balls in her mouth, her tongue swirling around and over it. After a bit she repeats the process on the other side and I’m again hard as a rock.
“Good boy,” she says, squeezing my cock as she brings her face back up where mine is. “I want this inside of me.”
From what I’ve seen of her so far, my instincts tell me Abby likes it rough. That excites me, so I reach across her thick body to my nightstand and fetch a condom from the drawer.
“Rory Winston, a respons
ible man?” she says, watching intently as I roll the latex down my hard shaft. “I would never have guessed.”
I grin and say, “Quit talking and spread those legs for me.”
I know she’s still wet, so I don’t hold back, plunging my cock into her as she gasps in pleasure. She opens her legs wider as I settle in between them and began slowly thrusting in and out. As we grow accustomed to each other’s body, I realize how active Abby is while being fucked. Rather than just lie there while I do all the work, she’s working in tandem with me, her cunt actively meeting my every thrust. It’s a revelation to be with a woman who fucks as intently as I do and the more I pound her, the more she likes.
“Give it to me harder, baby,” she implores, again reading my mind.
This woman is incredible. I’m a world-class athlete and she’s taking everything I give her and demanding more. Soon I’m dripping with sweat as I slam into her again and again, and she’s still keeping up.
“Hard enough?” I say, taunting her.
“Harder. Fuck me harder.”
My fucking god. When I hammer into her, she moans, “Fuck yes. Just like that.”
Just as I begin to feel my orgasm approaching, Abby moans and says, “Rory, I’m gonna come.” I bear down and fuck her even harder and in seconds she’s there. “I’m coming. I’m coming!”
Her cunt clamps tightly around my shaft as she comes hard, and the sensation pushes me over the edge. I explode as if I haven’t come in a week, despite having actually done so less than half an hour ago.
We lie in each other’s arms, our bodies glistening with sweat after that workout, our skin slippery in the sexiest possible way.
“My god, that was perfect. Where have you been all my life?” she says, laughing as a final shiver passes through her body.
“Meeting women who are in every way your inferior,” I say.
“Yeah? You like fucking me, Sir Rory?”
“No. I love it. Where did you learn to fuck like that?”
“Mmm, I’m not telling. Holy shit, this body of yours has no fat at all. You’re flawless.” She tightens her muscles around my cock again. “This part of you especially.”
My Wedding Knight (A Wedding Season Series) Page 4